


Ticklish

by Pragnificent (PragmaticHominid)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Tickle Fights, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 21:11:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10049831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PragmaticHominid/pseuds/Pragnificent
Summary: Will makes the astonishing discovery that Hannibal is ticklish.





	

 Will makes his discovery nearly by accident.

He gets up in the night to go to the bathroom, and one of his fingers by happenstance brush the arch of Hannibal’s foot.

It would not have happened were Hannibal more apt to keep to his side of the bed, or even to leave a third of it over for Will, who has shared a bed with dogs who showed more consideration for the personal space of their bedmate.

In his sleep, Hannibal clings. He clutches Will’s biceps, or else envelopes as much of Will's body around his arms as is possible. He’s apt to nuzzle, too, to rub his forehead or cheek against Will’s shoulders or neck or the back of his head.

Will doesn’t mind, though in the daylight he bitches on principle. He sleeps better with Hannibal holding him. Feels safe, though even after so much time he is not entirely sure that he ought to.

It’s really only a problem when one or the other has a nightmare. When the dreams come to Hannibal he holds far too tight, as though something is trying to tear Will away from him. After particularly bad nights, Will has bore bruises and crescent-shaped indents from Hannibal’s nails in the morning.

Will knows that losing hold of him beneath the black water is a common theme of Hannibal’s nightmares, and he accepts a certain measure of responsibility for that and does what can be done to shepherd Hannibal through. It’s harder to know what the others are about or what happens when the losing Will dream bleeds into some other, older and more final loss.

He has his suspicions but does not pry. Everything that he should know, Will is sure, he will know in time. There is no need now to hurry.

When the nightmares come to Will they take him by the throat, and he thrashes and shouts and claws at the bedding. Will caught Hannibal in the nose with his open fist hard enough to draw blood once, though that was some time ago. Were Hannibal not such a light sleeper, quick to wake up and get out of the way, Will would worry more about something unfortunate happening, but mostly things have been okay. 

Hannibal is as likely to tangle their legs together as he is the rest of them, and that is why Will’s hand brushes the bottom of Hannibal’s foot, and when it does so Hannibal jerks his foot away, drawing it in towards his body, and makes a small, almost squeaky, noise.

A wondrous and incredible suspicion begins to bloom in Will.

In the darkness, he grins.

He leans over the bed and draws his index finger along the arch of Hannibal’s foot, and was rewarded with the same short sound, louder this time and perilously close to a giggle, and a more violent jerk of the leg.

Will forgets about needing to pee. He considers what his next course of action ought to be. The foot is too obvious a target, and would leave him too vulnerable to being knocked away.

He creeps back into the bed, kneeling on his knees, and begins carefully to work his hands under Hannibal’s pajama top.

Hannibal’s eyes gleam in the dimness of the room. “Do not,” he says, voice low and a little dangerous.

The element of surprise lost to him, Will attacks.

He tickles Hannibal’s abdomen, beginning at his sides and working his hands towards the navel. Hannibal is completely still beneath him, only his chest rising and falling in even breaths.

Will frowns, straightens up to reach over and switches on the bedside lamp. He leans over Hannibal again, their faces so close that their noses almost touch. “I know your secret, Hannibal,” he says, settling his face into grim and serious lines. “You are ticklish.”

Hannibal cocks his head to the side and hoods his eyes. “When you attempted to tickle me just now, did I respond?”    

Will’s expression turns cunning. “You didn’t respond, but only because you had a chance to get your guard up.” He runs the tip of a finger from behind Hannibal’s ear and down the side of his neck, dancing it along in loops and swirls. He is not entirely sure, but he thinks he sees something in Hannibal’s face twitch towards involuntary hilarity.

“But I think I can break you,” Will promises, and now his grin is large and predatory.

“You’ll only disappoint yourself, Will,” Hannibal says, but puts up no resistance when Will straddles his waist and goes to work.

He has watched Hannibal close his eyes and sigh in response to a bullet tearing through his body. His self-possession can be, at times, super - or else, sub - human, but Will knows what he saw when his fingers brushed Hannibal’s foot, and he has all the time in the world to prove himself correct.

It takes less than fifteen minutes.

When Hannibal refuses to laugh beneath Will’s busy hands, Will does so himself instead, and sees Hannibal’s walls begin to fall almost immediately. It is, in a certain way, charming to Will to see how easily Hannibal catches his moods, how little he is able to protect himself from them. He has no such vulnerabilities to anyone else.  

Hannibal does not catch yawns as though they are contagious, as most people do, though he often deliberately mimics the yawners to avoid standing out. He yawns when Will yawns, though, and without thinking about it.

Will has seen Hannibal's face when he catches himself doing such things - yawning a beat behind Will, drumming his fingers against a surface to the same rhythm as Will’s own, humming nearly inaudibly as the faintest notes of Will’s own soft humming filter their way into his subconscious - and it is a marvel, how similar Hannibal's expression is to Will's own when he realizes, by merit of Hannibal's closeness, that he has maintained serenity within his own mind even if the mist of a crowd.  

Hannibal laughs now because Will is laughing. There is a bright and open beauty to Hannibal’s face as he laughs and laughs until tears are running down his face, and the contagious joy of it circles back around to Will as he watches Hannibal’s face through his own leaky eyes, magnified now by Hannibal’s laughter.

Nearly howling with the laughter, Will lowers his head against Hannibal’s collarbone and closes his eyes, and so he is entirely defenseless when Hannibal’s hands come up and begin to tickle him instead.

For Will there is no pretending not to be ticklish, no pretext that can stand before the feeling of skin on skin. He shouts in surprise before beginning to laugh harder, squirming to get away, and they tangle in a convulsive, laughing heap until they are both gasping and spent.

Hannibal lets him go and they roll apart, lying side by side, panting, residual chuckles occasionally bubbling from their throats unbidden.   

“You know, Will,” Hannibal says between gasping breaths, “don’t you, that… that was cheating… It doesn’t count because you did not… make me laugh by tickling me.”

Will does not rise to the bait.

He lays still for another two minutes, working to catch his own breath. Then he turns to his side, and moving very quickly jams his fingers into Hannibal’s arm pit and begins to tickle him again.

The sound that is shocked out of him is absolutely and undeniably a _giggle._

For an instant Hannibal is immobilized by his own astonishment. The he wiggles away and dives for Will’s foot, and they are off once again.  

**Author's Note:**

> Within pop psychology, there's a frequently repeated but highly dubious claim that "psychopaths" are immune to contagious yawning. 
> 
> I'm usually inclined to critique this type of thing (to say nothing of the concept of "psychopathy" itself) as junk science, but for the sake of this story it was too cute an image to pass up on.
> 
> [Come visit me on tumblr](http://www.pragula.tumblr.com). 


End file.
